My Tormented Existence
by OpalWings
Summary: Before Hitomi and the war with Zaibach, Van contemplates his tormented existence. Short and highly silly. Rated PG-13 for dirty thoughts.


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**My Tormented Existence **  
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By Jessica Lynn S. (escaflowne@opalwings.com)  
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**Spoilers**: None, for a change. ^_^ 

**Warnings**: Heh...umm...perversion? 

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Escaflowne or its characters. No profit is being made from my silly fanfiction hobby. ^_^ I do, however, own this fic. Please do not post this story anywhere without asking first. 

**Summary**: Before Hitomi and the war with Zaibach, Van contemplates his tormented existence. It is an existence which is tormented...and...did I mention it's tormented? ^_^ The poor boy desperately needs more fiber in his diet! 

**AN**: Umm, I dunno what I was thinking...hehe. Like any work of sheer literary genious, this was written well after two in the morning. It is merely meant to poke fun, not to truly berate any of the characters. (I adore Van, really. Check out "Beneath Two Moons" if ya don't believe me. Well...I pick on him a bit there too. It's just 'cause he's so cuuuuute, like a cranky wittle kitty cat!) This isn't meant to be taken too seriously...note the "humor" categorization. 

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I've finished my lessons with Balgus for the day, and now I have taken up the productive activity of sitting with my sword in my lap, staring at the wall and contemplating my tormented existence. A few beads of sweat from my sparring match drip from my unruly mop of hair on to my skin, leaving a chilling sensation as they evaporate in to the stale air. That match went as they always seem to; I charged apathetically, Balgus disarmed me in a single move, and shook his head at me in utter disappointment. 

He is deeply concerned by my lack of progress, for I will need to slay a dragon soon. I have no desire to slay a dragon, but if I don't, I'll get eaten. Fun times. Balgus knows of my resentment toward the rite, though he thinks it's because of my brother's failure. The truth is far more gruesome, I'm afraid. It is a truth that Balgus can never know. When I was but a child, I had an imaginary pet dragon named Fluffy. He was a baby dragon, and he had fur like Merle, hence his name. He would play with me when Folken was otherwise occupied learning how to be king. 

We played hide-and-go-seek a lot. He was a lot better at it than me though, because he was imaginary, and therefore invisible. He was a really nice dragon, he never hurt anyone. And when I stand with my sword poised, aimed to be plunged in to the heart of the raging beast, I know that Fluffy will be all that I see. It pains me unbearably, haunting all my dreams -- except, of course, those dreams which are haunted by something far worse. Something which, within the past year, has become the bane of my existence. 

Merle, my attendant and closest companion, is like the little sister that I never had. The cat-girl is playful and amusing and caring and affectionate and lovable in every way, shape and form. But Merle is beginning to develop as a woman. And Merle wears incredibly short dresses without any underwear. And Merle embraces me tightly, pressing her little body up against mine, and sits in my lap and squirms around, and licks me..! AUGH! How clueless can the little feline be? 

I am becoming a man, and when she does that, my body reacts in ways which positively frighten me. As the future king of Fanelia, I must not let impure thoughts cloud my mind! But in my mind's eye, I see her arching her back and stretching her arms in the air, causing her dress to ride up and reveal her furry little butt. I find that I have absent-mindedly begun to stroke the hilt of my sword. I mentally reprimand myself. _Bad Van!_ I say. I lift the sword in my hands so that its sheathed blade is horizontal and at eye-level. I reel back and smack my forehead in to it hard, then promptly drop it. 

It clamors to the floor as I press my gloved fingers to the place on my forehead where I hit myself. I am sure I left a nice red welt, just like the last time. I will have to make up another excuse. "An unfortunate incident with a tree." I said last time. The time before that, it was an unfortunate incident with a shrub. 

But like last time and the time before, I've only succeeded in giving myself a throbbing ache in my head in _addition_ to the throbbing ache that I still feel elsewhere. Oh, the agony of it all! 

I deal with the situation as best as I possibly can, though. I carefully pick up my sword from the floor and return it to my lap. And I revert back to my rigid schedule of staring at the wall, contemplating my tormented existence. Maybe later I will take a break to drink some piscus fruit. Good stuff that is, like all the bitterness of stolen childhood innocence. My innocence may have long-since perished upon the pointed spear of reality, but in the darkest depths of my heart, I will mourn for Fluffy eternally. Why Fluffy, why? 

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**AN:** He is truly and honestly stroking the hilt of his sword...not something else, so stop thinking that right now! -_-' I have a confession to make...I actually had an imaginary pet dragon when I was little! Its name wasn't Fluffy, though... 

**Site Plug:** http://www.opalwings.com/escaflowne


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